Page 47 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
He struggled with composure. “That wasn’t everything.”
“Oh, I know that.” She reached down and boldly took hold of his cock, her small fingers unreasonably pleasurable. He had to fight to keep his hips from bucking, seeking the soft delight of her palm. “I presume thefullact involves this…”
Where had she come from? He choked a laugh and stroked her cheek. “It does.”
“Then will you show me?”
“Is this what you want?”
“Where better to lose my innocence than with my husband?” She glanced behind her, the wickedness in her eyes only spurring him on. “There is even a bed.”
From the way she pursed her lips, he suspected she, too, was imagining all the things they could do there. He did not have a surfeit of experience, but he had more than her, and he expected his imagination rather more followed reality—andpossibility.
“I liked what you did before,” she whispered. “I would like you to do it again.”
If there had ever been a hope of him holding out, he lost it then. This house was filled with memories of Helena, and he forgot them all in the arms of his warm, gloriously plump, painfully alive wife.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lydia felt giddy with her victory as she led Alexander to the bath. The fragrant water steamed, the fire crackled, and the heat played across her goosepimpled skin. He watched her as though he had never seen the female form before.
She couldn’t know for certain, but she fancied he had not been with another woman in alongtime. Why that was, she did not know, but it felt gratifying, somehow, to know that this time, it was her. And hewantedher.
His staff jutted from him, the head red. It had felt like velvet-covered steel under her questing hands earlier, and she had seen the play of pleasure across his face.
She wanted this…
But here, he took control, taking hold of her shoulders and stopping her so he could climb into the water first. Only once he was inside did he beckon her closer.
Skin against skin.
For a second, she almost slipped, and he caught her. She laughed, and his eyes sparkled, too. When had she ever seenhimlaugh? Now she thought on it, she didn’t think she ever had. This wasn’t laughing either, but it was new.
Because ofher.
Then she was in the water, almost scalding hot, and her limbs slipped against his. They lay together for a time, his heart beating under his skin, hers keeping pace with it. Curled around each other like this, they fit together like two puzzle pieces. Her curves and softness against his hard lines. His staff pressed against her stomach; her breasts pillowed against his chest.
“Is this all right?” she whispered, not wanting to break the moment. She had thought she could be like this with him and continue to dislike him, but her feelings were melting under the force of her desire.
No, of course she could not hate him! Nor dislike him. How could she dislike the way his hand skimmed along the subtle curve of her back, settling against the nape of her neck? How could she hate the way he drank her in, or the way his body responded to hers?
No, there was nodislikein her. There hadn’t been since before she chased him into the rain.
To answer her question, he reached up to kiss her.
For a long time, their mouths were the only things that moved. He kissed her luxuriously, as though he had all the time in the world, and all her excited anticipation deepened into contentment and need together. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip; she gasped, and he adjusted his hold on her so he could kiss her more deeply.
Slowly, the kiss took on a new life of its own, becoming something that whispered words of its own into the steamy air. Words of desire, of perhaps evenaffection.
They didn’t speak as he slid his hands across her body, each touch a worship. Stomach, breasts, thighs—he took his time with them all. The water cooled around them, and all he did was touch her.
She should have been impatient. Perhaps, even, she was, but more than that, she felt as though she was experiencing this outside of her body. Both inside it, and not; washed away on sensation and achingly present in the moment…
In return, she touched him. All the bare skin she had half been unable to believe when she’d removed his robe. Men were such different creatures; all straight lines when she was rounded. Muscles lurking just under skin, flexing every time he took abreath. The sharp slash of his clavicle, the dips and hollows of his stomach. A light dusting of hair as golden as that on his head.
It was a body ravaged yet honed. Flawed, yet so utterlyperfect.
He pinched her nipple, and she rolled her hips against him, wanting friction. All that had been dreamy and slow snapped tight all at once.
